


so loosen your heart

by opheliahyde



Category: From Dusk Till Dawn: The Series
Genre: 5 Times, Bisexuality, Character Study, F/F, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 08:14:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9313085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opheliahyde/pseuds/opheliahyde
Summary: Five women Kisa maybe have been a little in love with.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from _Ageless Beauty_ by Stars.

**i. PALOMA**

She likes to pretend she met her some other way—along the road, in a diner, a coffee shop, at a rest stop with her eyes cast to the sky, stars bright and her hand wrapped around her golden pendant, both of them already free, a pair of border jumpers; it’s nice, like the distant memory of sun on her face, something fading and night quite tangible, slipping away from her all too easy.

What’s left is Paloma’s saliva on her cheek when she spits at her through the bars—a far less pretty cage than the one Malvado put her in, not at all glided, stark and honest, with iron bars. Paloma’s eyes mirror back at her own, gaze sharp and burning, a simmering under her skin that Santanico knows. She wonders, if Paloma would run if she turned her back.

(a part of her wishes her well, thinks  _run fast_ )

Santanico turns the key in the lock, walks away wearing Paloma’s spit on her cheek, letting  _you’re just like him_  writhe under her skin.

 

 

 

**ii. SONJA**

Sonja was quicker on the trigger when Santanico went for her throat, her hands blocking Santanico’s arms and grabbing her face, pressing her back against the sinks. Sonja’s mouth is hot over hers, wet and alive, her tongue slipping between Santanico’s lips as her fingers trail under the skirt of her dress, stroking up her thigh as the bathroom counter digs into the small of her back. Santanico tries not to think of Richard outside the door, Seth sitting across the table from him, the pair of them waiting as Sonja pins her again her body with her hand between Santanico’s legs, fingertips dancing her over the silk of her underwear, slow teasing strokes that make her throb and feel dizzy.

Sonja bites her bottom lip when her fingers slip past the elastic band and into her folds. “You’re so wet, baby,” she whispers, thick and throaty, her voice like a purr that rolls across Santanico’s skin in waves, her spine arching, legs spreading when Sonja rubs her, teeth nipping at her throat.

Santanico tries not to think about it, tries to want, take, and have, and let herself be taken, just for a moment, by a con woman and her quick fingers, sliding inside her and curling into her, Sonja panting into her mouth, heart pulsating against her chest.

 

 

 

**iii. KATE**

Santanico forgets, sometimes, that she can’t hear her.

_Careful, pequeñita_ , she whispers past Richard, to the little girl in too little clothes, wet and covered in chlorine; it’s easy to forget, close to the edges of her mind, wearing her skin for a few breaths.

Santanico feels her eyes on her—a different sort of gaze, open yet abashed, color turning her cheeks pink under the neon lights; her gasp shakes something loose inside her. Sometimes she forgets being that young.

Her lips are soft under hers, under Richard’s, both of them kissing her at once, soft grazes of mouths upon mouths that shouldn’t happen, but she could help but push up under Richard’s skin and feel for herself, like kissing a mirror, like kissing a memory, distant and dusty.

Carlos wanted to sacrifice the girl—she felt a bit guilty about that,  _what a waste_.

 

 

 

**iv. ALICE**

Alice had been one of hers--stumbled  nto the  _Twister_  one night in the early twentieth century, wide-eyed and lost; she had spared her the slaughter, drawn to the desperation in her eyes, something sturdy about the way she stood though her body shook, watching the carnage tear open the room around her. She didn’t vomit at the sight or the smell, swallowed the bile back as she kept her composure, tears trickling from the corners of her eyes.

Santanico kept her, traded her pale downy skin for scales, gifting her with fangs and claws of her own, shared her bed with Alice some nights when Carlos hadn’t slipped under her sheets, months since Malvado’s last visit. She hadn’t seen the ambition in her blood when she took her fill, reliving Alice’s life for her—hadn’t felt the treachery when she kissed her, soft and tentative at the corner of Santanico’s mouth.

She should have noticed the darkening of her gaze and the tightening of her smile, something she smelled on Narciso from the start. Her kiss was hard the night before she said goodbye, biting with her new sharp teeth and drawing blood.

“Thank you,” Alice whispers, stroking her fingers through Santanico’s hair.

Alice didn’t look back when she left with Malvado, two steps behind him, at his right.

 

 

 

**v. VANESSA**

She’s blonde, when Kisa meets her—bleached in increments, turning her hair golden, falling in soft waves around her face.  _Vanessa_ , she thinks, before she says her name and reaches out her hand. Her palm is warm pressed against her own as their fingers curl together, holding on. She’s taller than she imagined—but it doesn’t surprise her, casting her eyes up and meeting blue, the familiar shade making her mouth twist, wry.

“So they finally broke you out,” she says, swallowing around the casual tone, warm in her throat.

(she knew her through Richard’s blood, through his soft, careful stories when he let slip little bits of information— _Seth’s wife_ , he explained, before he corrected himself, kept correcting himself, always getting it wrong, like he couldn’t bring himself to say  _ex_ , choosing to say _Vanessa_ instead—knew the taste of her mouth, the sound of her laugh, felt the edges across her skin through Richard’s hands, his memories, half in love with her already)

Vanessa laughs, light, but Kisa can see her shaking, casting her head back to glance at both Geckos, too many contrasts shuddering across her face with a look; there’s new scars on her arms, a new weariness across her shoulders—prison does that to a person, Kisa knows that best of all.

“Better late than never,” Vanessa says, still holding onto her hand; Kisa lets her.

**Author's Note:**

> come say hi to me on [tumblr](http://richiesseth.tumblr.com)!


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